Chapter 25: Dance and Quarrel Part 2

Xie Qi needed a mind-reader partner to intuit his feelings, shower affection, cater endlessly for smooth sailing—that was Qian Lang’s verdict. Wen Jiang figured it was no different from lifelong singledom.

Still, Xie Qi was more upfront now. No need for pessimism.

“After the dance, let everyone go home.” He’d petted Xie Qi’s head unusually often tonight, but the feel was great—he stroked twice more while speaking.

“Got it.” The room’s events seemed flipped like a new page, yet traces lingered. The dimmed space hid Xie Qi’s faint flush. He met Wen Jiang’s calm gaze, then lowered his eyes, bending at the waist. Unlike prior flirtation and subtle clashes, Xie Qi knelt on one knee before Wen Jiang, extending a hand in perfect etiquette: “Dance with me?”

Just as he thought—they were a championship duo. Wen Jiang chuckled softly, placing his hand in Xie Qi’s palm.

With the fountain at its center, the circular clearing became their dance floor. A quiet, secret duet unfolded. Suddenly, a sweeping gust of wind flung open the doors and windows of the Bohr Hotel’s first and second floors. Invisible air currents swept through the lobby, billowing the curtains and letting the music spill out. Naturally, everyone’s attention shifted outside.

Wen Tianlu’s fingers paused mid-tap on his game interface. Lin Xun, who had showered twice already, stepped over the shattered vase fragments by his feet and approached the window. Jiang Hehu, who had been quietly holed up in another room for a while, snapped back to attention at the noise. Wen Ruoyue glanced outside in mild surprise from the second floor, peering out. Moments later, she let out a soft “Oh.”

Plan three: create a new “stage.” Wen Jiang raised his hand and snapped his fingers lightly in the vast, quiet outdoors.

His ability value wasn’t high enough to forcibly seize everyone’s gaze. Some ignored the open windows entirely, while others drifted curiously toward them. It was like a modestly popular musical—not a blazing hit, but a street performance that drew a partial crowd. By the fountain under the moonlight, their shadows fluttered like butterflies, stepping fluidly through silvery glows.

After circling a quarter of the loop from the starting point, Xie Qi asked softly, “This good enough?”

“Mm.” Hands clasped, Wen Jiang followed his lead, occasionally switching between guiding and being guided. Bathed in moonlight, his features looked exceptionally soft. He murmured like it was a secret just for the two of them, “Hard to forget, right?”

Performance was a wondrous thing. Sometimes, just changing the venue or the way it was discovered could deliver a completely different experience. A bold frontal assault invited intense scrutiny from the start. But stumbling upon a graceful dance on a boring night? That naturally struck many as “romantic” right off the bat.

And those too inwardly restless to enjoy entertainment wouldn’t buy tickets to some musical anyway. The ones who actively gathered at the windows were already primed to immerse themselves. Once hooked, they’d have no bandwidth left for other thoughts.

As for the other key factor in scoring their assignment—the inviter’s own willingness—Wen Jiang was actually quite confident. Calmly cracking a joke, he said, “Or we could just crash the dance like this instead.”

Catching them off guard. It had a dramatic ring to it.

Xie Qi caught the joke this time, the corner of his mouth hooking up. “Yeah, that’d definitely be unforgettable.”

“Either way works, really.” Becoming the star-like center of attention was fine, or this hidden focus on just the two of them—Xie Qi pressed his lips together. He was never good at expressing himself. After leading Wen Jiang through the next beat, he finally said, “As long as you’re happy, that’s good enough for me.”

…If he keeps evolving like this, he should still be able to date someone. And the fights with others would drop off big time. Wen Jiang blinked lightly, reaffirming that the outlook was indeed optimistic.

Making both the audience and his duet partner feel joy—that made for a properly completed task. “Hope you’re happy too,” Wen Jiang said, echoing Xie Qi’s initial invitation. As the final note fell, he stepped back, placed a hand over his chest, and bowed to him.

***

—And then they argued the next day.

It wasn’t a fierce blowout, more like petty bickering that soured the mood before they parted.

The Bohr Hotel’s nighttime drama had ended on a gentle, quiet note. As an aftershock of the farce, Xie Qi showed up at Wen Jiang’s home the next day with the family doctor in tow, insisting on a full checkup.

The results were as expected. The doctor gave standard advice: he could appropriately increase his physiological relief sessions going forward, but not to force it just for relief’s sake—though if urges hit suddenly in the near term, best not to hold back.

No big deal. After the doctor left, Wen Jiang lounged and kept reading. Xie Qi didn’t leave right away. Instead, he hovered nearby for ages—ruffling his hair one moment, touching his neck the next, pouring himself water, before finally sitting down and drawling, “When the time comes… you can come to me.”

…Huh?

What the hell?

That awkward vibe from not getting the “empty room” before flashed through again. Wen Jiang looked up from his book, meeting Xie Qi’s eyes—just for Xie Qi to flick his gaze to the floor. His expression was heavy, brows furrowed, but his ears burned red. The emotional read was a tangled mess; without activating his ability, it was indecipherable.

What is he even doing?

Recalling how Xie Qi had seemed utterly hooked before—more like he’d been hit by the ability than Wen Jiang himself—Wen Jiang briefly considered if this was Xie Qi using “helping” as cover for his own craving, a chance to dive headfirst into a new world now that he’d tasted it.

But trusting their friendship and Xie Qi himself, Wen Jiang quickly dismissed it. After a two-second poker face, he ventured a new guess: “Are you feeling guilty?”

Xie Qi froze, looking like he didn’t want to admit it. But with Wen Jiang staring, he finally mumbled a glum “Mm.”

This is tricky. Wen Jiang stressed, “It wasn’t your fault. And you helped a ton.”

Getting hit by 【Peach Fragrance】 had been an unexpected twist for both. In the end, things resolved smoothly, and Wen Jiang had no intention of holding anyone accountable—at least not until he got his assignment grade.

Even stepping back ten thousand steps, if blame had to be assigned, it mostly fell on the three spectators. He’d jot a few lines in the written report’s “self-reflection” section like “not cautious enough” and “room for improvement,” turn it in, and done. No way was Xie Qi on the hook.

Xie Qi probably knew that rationally… or so Wen Jiang hoped. But he always seemed to think he had to guarantee Wen Jiang’s safety 100%. He even grumbled a bit about brushing off the hotel incident so lightly.

Now that Wen Jiang thought about it, Xie Qi’s face had soured right after the doctor mentioned short-term bodily effects. Even if he kept saying “don’t worry about it,” he probably wasn’t letting it go.

Talk about contradictory. If Xie Qi just wanted a thrill, Wen Jiang would shut it down flat. But if it was guilt driving him to “follow up service,” rejecting outright felt a bit harsh.

…Even though he looked like he enjoyed it.

Whatever—didn’t he think this was weird? Wen Jiang tried conveying that with sincere eyes. Xie Qi seemed to agree it was awkward, averting his gaze again. But moments later, he looked back, more resolute.

Wen Jiang fell silent, then said tactfully, “I can handle it myself.”

That backfired hard. Xie Qi’s breath hitched, and when he spoke, his voice grated: “Was I that bad?”

Say ‘bad’ and he might shatter. Wen Jiang went silent again.

From his personal experience, Xie Qi hadn’t been bad at all. But asking someone under a Charm-Type Esper Ability that was like asking a parched man in the desert if the water tasted good—no matter the skill level, the answer was always “great and effective.” For a real, reliable verdict, asking him was pointless.

“Not bad at all,” Wen Jiang stated objectively, pumping up the encouragement. “Big help.”

“Then why?” It backfired again. Xie Qi looked hurt, a bit angry, his tone turning pushy. “Give me a reason at least?”

“No need.” Wen Jiang kept reasoning with him. “The doctor didn’t say it was so severe I had to rely on someone else.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

Always like this. The hand-holding thing, now this—flawless logic, but so logically distant. Like the hotel night was fully in the past, and they were back at square one. Xie Qi hadn’t overthought at first, but now he was spiraling, dead set on it.

“Does ‘not required’ mean I can’t help?” Guilt and frustration got overridden by something else. Xie Qi’s tone sharpened, clearly holding back anger. “He said handling it yourself would take way longer—did you miss that?”

That meant consider tools, not dragging in another live person. Single folks would be screwed otherwise. Wen Jiang said, “Doesn’t mean I want your help.”

“Who else are you gonna ask?!” The air currents churned chaotically. Xie Qi exploded like a lit fuse, dimly realizing his biggest trigger. Just imagining it for a second was unbearable: “I don’t get why you’re always dodging like this. Wen Jiang, you can’t— You—”

“Xie Qi.” Wen Jiang’s voice flattened—not angry, but like slamming a circuit breaker, cutting off Xie Qi’s emotional torrent midstream.

“If you’re doing this for me, hear my wishes first.” Wen Jiang closed his book. “I’m not uncomfortable now. No real sense of a second wave. I don’t think I need it. If I do, I’ll figure something out. Or… give me another reason that’d convince me.”

Xie Qi swallowed his words, face darkening ominously. Back in the day, he could’ve kicked over the table. But that was ages ago—pre-Wen Jiang Xie Qi. He’d changed without realizing. Under that gaze now, he could only pace like a caged beast.

“…Fine. Fine.” Finally, Xie Qi sucked in a deep breath, gritted out through clenched teeth. He shot to his feet and stormed out without looking back.

Wen Jiang went back to his book.

People always had little frictions in relationships, often sparked by trivial nonsense no one could even pinpoint—feeling inexplicable. And these spats usually fizzled out without fanfare. No debate-style winner/loser, no formal apologies or reflections. The closer the bond, the more true that was.

Xie Qi, far more upfront than at enrollment, still followed his pattern: get mad, cool off solo, come back on his own. A day later, as Wen Jiang prepared to submit his assignment—before even checking with this round’s inviter—he got Xie Qi’s feedback form: full marks, perfect satisfaction.

A beat later, a message followed: Can I pick you up after school?

Clearly, he’d cooled off.